<TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0" xmlns:py="http://codespeak.net/lxml/objectify/pytype" py:pytype="TREE"><text><body><div type="translation" n="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg043.perseus-eng2" xml:lang="eng"><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg043.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="19"><p>

What they do at drinking-parties, how
intoxicated they become, would make a long story.
And while they do all this, you cannot imagine how
they berate drunkenness and adultery and lewdness
and covetousness. Indeed you could not find any
two things so opposed to each other as their words
and their deeds. For instance, they claim to hate
toadying, when as far as that goes they are able to
outdo Gnathonides or Struthias;<note xml:lang="eng" n="v.5.p.75.n.4"><p>Gluttonous parasites of the New Comedy. Struthias, whose name is evidently connected with the greediness of the sparrow, figures in the Toady (Colaz) of Menander. The play in which Gnathonides appeared is unknown, but Gnatho (“Fowl?) is mentioned by Plutarch to exemplify a typical rasite (Symp., VII, 6, 2), and in utilising part of the Toady for his Hunuchus Terence changed the name of the chief role from Struthias to Gnatho. </p></note> and although
they exhort everyone else to tell the truth, they
themselves cannot so much as move their tongues
except ina lie. To all of them pleasure is nominally
an odious thing and Epicurus a foeman; but in
practice they do everything for the sake of it. In
irascibility, pettishness, and proneness to anger they
are beyond young children; indeed, they give no little
amusement to onlookers when their blood boils up in






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them for some trivial reason, so that they look livid in
colour, with a reckless, insane stare, and foam (or
rather, venom) fills their mouths.
</p></div><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg043.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="20"><p>
And “may you never chance to be there”<note xml:lang="eng" n="v.5.p.77.n.1"><p>The words are those of Circe to Odysseus, alluding to Charybdis (Odyssey, XII, 106). </p></note> when
that vile filth of theirs is exuded! “As to gold or
silver, Heracles! I do not want even to ownit. An
obol is enough, so that I can buy lupines, for a spring
or a stream will supply me with drink.” Then after
a little they demand, not obols nor a few drachmas,
but whole fortunes. What shipman could make as
much from his cargoes as philosophy contributes
to these fellows in the way of gain? And then,
when they have levied tribute and stocked themselves up to their heart’s content, throwing off
that ill-conditioned philosopher’s cloak, they buy
farms every now and then, and luxurious clothing, and long-haired pages, and whole apartmenthouses, bidding a long farewell to the wallet of
Crates, the mantle of Antisthenes, and the jar of
Diogenes.
</p></div><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg043.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="21"><p>
The unschooled, seeing all this, now spit scornfully at philosophy, thinking that all of us are like
this and blaming me for my teachings, so that for
a long time now it has been impossible for me
to win over a single one of them. I am in the
same fix as Penelope,<note xml:lang="eng" n="v.5.p.77.n.2"><p>The story of Penelope’s web is told several times in the Odyssey; II, 93-110; XIX, 138-156; XXIV, 129-146. </p></note> for truly all that I weave
is instantly unravelled again; and Stupidity and
Wrongdoing laugh in my face to see that I cannot
bring my work to completion and my toil to an
end.



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